


The Stapler Satyr (Another It's Office Not Orifice Remix)

by IreneADonovan



Series: The Creative Use of Office Supplies [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Office Sex, Staplers, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Charles doesn't think staplers are sexy. Erik seeks to prove him wrong...





	The Stapler Satyr (Another It's Office Not Orifice Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fullmetalcarer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It's Office Not Orifice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868034) by [Fullmetalcarer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer). 



> Many thanks to Fullmetalcarer for allowing me to continue playing in this 'verse...

Erik Lehnsherr had an unholy relationship with his stapler. Charles Xavier was utterly sure of that. The man treated it with fanatical care, always returning it to the exact same spot on his desk, aligning it in perfect parallel with the sides. And he used it a lot. The man stapled everything.

He couldn't be satisfied with paper clips, butterfly clips, or even binder clips. They could all be removed or lost. No, Erik wanted to be sure that anything he joined together stayed that way. Charles was surprised he hadn't tried welding. Or super glue.

Charles, on the other hand, liked to separate papers, riffle through them, rearrange them if needed. That was why Charles liked the Post-It Notes that so aggrieved Erik. He liked to be able to shuffle things about, see them from a different perspective. Erik was much more rigid, more structured, more controlling about everything.

Okay, almost everything. Erik showed amazing creativity -- and quite a few kinks -- when it came to their sex life. So Charles had an idea where things would lead when he picked up Erik's stapler.

“Put that down,” Erik growled.

“Just checking out the competition,” Charles said cheekily.

A slow, filthy smile spread across Erik's face. “Competition?”

Charles slid the stapler back and forth in his hands provocatively. “As much attention as you lavish on this thing, I just know you're having some sort of sordid affair with it.”

“Sordid? Sordid?” Erik pretended to look offended. “The relationship between a man and his stapler is sacred.”

Charles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he contemplated the device in his hands. “It's a stapler, Erik.”

Erik snatched it away, cradled it in his hands, and crooned to it. “Don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't get it. He doesn't think you're sexy or understand all the wonderful things you can do.”

Charles cleared his throat to disguise the laugh he could no longer suppress. “Perhaps you could demonstrate.”

The gleam in Erik's eyes was triumphant. “I'd be glad to.” Then he paused, lifted the stapler to his ear. “What's that? You don't think he believes us? You think he needs to be punished? Taught the error of his ways?”

Better and better. Charles pretended to look scared.

“You think we should meet him in the third-floor conference room in twenty minutes?” Steel-grey eyes fixed on Charles. “I don't know if he has balls enough to do it.”

Charles licked his lips in anticipation. He certainly had balls enough. Two, to be precise.

Erik set the stapler down and gave it a loving pat. “Meet me in twenty,” he said, then he rose and headed toward the elevator.

Precisely twenty minutes later, Charles slipped down a mercifully empty corridor and into the conference room. It was a smaller space, used mainly when the main conference room was already occupied. A large stack of file boxes, almost a wall of them, sat at the far end, Erik himself sat on the table, tie loosened, jacket already discarded, and the stapler sat by his thigh.

“Take off your jacket,” Erik ordered.

Charles shed his jacket and draped it on a chair.

“Up against the bulletin board, arms out.”

A little puzzled but already getting aroused, Charles complied.

Erik rose, took the stapler, swung it open on its hinge, then slowly and methodically began stapling Charles' white dress shirt to the board. He began at the juncture of Charles' neck and left shoulder, continued along the top of his arm to the wrist, then moved to the underside from wrist to armpit then down Charles' side to the waist. Then he repeated the process on the right side.

The metal periodically grazed Charles' skin, evoking frissons of pleasure on the razor's edge of pain, and he was already quite hard by the time Erik had finished securing him.

Erik unfastened Charles' trousers and pulled them down to his ankles, then stripped them off along with his shoes. He took the stapler again, squeezed it just hard enough to make two metal fangs protrude, then drew them across Charles' outer thigh.

Charles hissed.

Erik flashed him a cocky, too-toothy grin, then wrapped his hand around Charles' cock.

Charles groaned.

Erik worked his cock while continuing to periodically graze his skin with the staple ends, and Charles thought he might go insane. And just when Charles was sure he had to either come or implode, Erik stopped and backed away.

Charles wriggled against his “bonds,” knowing he could pull free and tackle Erik and claim the completion he'd been denied.

But Erik knew this, too, and he pushed Charles' head back against the board. “Be still,” he commanded as he lifted a lock of Charles' hair; stapled it to the board, repeated another dozen times, until Charles' head was gently but firmly restrained. Charles could still free himself, but not without pain. Though even the pain was tempting. Charles moved his head slightly, testing his limits.

Erik withdrew a tube of their favorite lube from a pocket, squirted som into his hand, and reached behind Charles. A single finger then worked its way inside him, began coaxing him open.

The one finger eventually became two, then three. Once Erik decided Charles was ready, he stepped back, opened his trousers, and coated his cock liberally with lube. Then he bent down, took hold of Charles' ankles, and lifted him up. Some of the staples along Charles' sides popped loose, but those along his arms and in his hair remained.

Erik settled Charles' legs on his shoulders, arms wrapped around Charles' thighs, and slowly pushed his way inside. “Are you good?” he asked, a little breathless.

“Yes,” Charles managed to answer.

Erik began to drive into him, not fast, but deep. Every thrust drove Charles against the wall, pushing the air from his lungs, tugging at the staples that held him pinioned, pulling at his hair, little jolts of pain that fired his pleasure.

His cock was trapped between their bodies, getting ground on with Erik's every stroke. Charles knew he wouldn't last long, and then the head of Erik's cock landed squarely on his prostate, sealing the deal.

He came all over their bellies, and as his muscles convulsed, he pulled Erik with him over the edge, feeling Erik's hot come shoot deep in his ass.

Erik collapsed against him for a minute, pinning him to the wall in a way that was pleasantly uncomfortable, then Erik lowered his legs to the floor and began tenderly removing the staples from his hair.

And in the sudden silence they heard a quiet feminine moan from behind the stacked boxes.

“Emma,” Erik whispered, looking half horrified, half turned-on.

“How'd she know we'd be in here,” Charles whispered back.

“I know everything, boys,” Emma said from her hiding spot, sounding both breathless and smug.


End file.
